


Anything But Honorable

by cadkitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cumshot, F/M, Masturbation, POV First Person, Sexual Fantasy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even now, as I sit at my desk, trying to focus on grading the essay papers from yesterday, all I can think about is tomorrow. I wonder a million things I never should wonder about you. I wonder what scent your perfume will be, as you always enjoy experimenting with it. I wonder what expression will be on your face as you walk in the door to my classroom. And I wonder more and more what will become of you next year, when you're far away from here and - with any luck - far, far from my horrible desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything But Honorable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_garra](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lady_garra).



> Commission from Saboten Con. NOTE I've never written character/reader before, so forgive it if it's awkward. I tried my best!  
> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: Various by Kiyoharu

Sometimes I wonder how it took me so long to accept the things that I desire and actually give in to them. There are days I still feel like denying myself every ounce of them and walking away. And then there are the days that I realize I've lost further touch with reality than most people will ever know. But you know... _you_ know it every single time I find myself a little too close or watching you for just a smidge too long. The way you look back at me, it tells me everything I ever needed to know about how you perceive me. But how many others know? Hopefully very few or more is in danger than simply this comical dance that we have learned with one another.

Even now, as I sit at my desk, trying to focus on grading the essay papers from yesterday, all I can think about is tomorrow. I wonder a million things I never should wonder about you. I wonder what scent your perfume will be, as you always enjoy experimenting with it. I wonder what expression will be on your face as you walk in the door to my classroom. And I wonder more and more what will become of you next year, when you're far away from here and - with any luck - far, far from my horrible desires. 

Some would say it isn't wrong, that your age is what tells all and that my wants are justified because of it. But others will tell me that simply because you got yourself nice and held behind _twice_ doesn't mean shit. You're my student, no matter your age, and I'm your teacher, largely older than you by any math that wants to be done. And that's where the problem is, isn't it? 

And yet, you tease me. Just last week, I swear your wore nothing beneath your robes. Pulling your hem higher and higher throughout the lesson, revealing more and more to me with every passing second. I couldn't leave from behind my desk you had me going so hard. You let _him_ get away with a lot of shit just because I was distracted by your thighs. So pale and delicate, yet more than a handful of them, just the way I've always liked. 

But I do have some dignity left. When you dropped your quill on purpose and bent over toward me to pick it up, I stared at only my desk. I never found out if you had anything beneath your robes or not, no matter how much I wanted to find that out in every way under the sun. 

Now that I think on it, perhaps you're teasing me for a reason. I'm unattached and obviously interested in you, though I've never been for any other student in my life. You're more than of age... and you can't have any student here, can you? That'd be just as wrong, just as horribly against all the rules and the unspoken vows. And that... that is probably why you chose to go after me.

Here I am, trying to justify my perversity to myself. It's not your fault I look. You show me and I don't have to look, but I do. I _want_ to. And that says enough, doesn't it? I'm the bad factor here. Not you, my innocent. 

But the thoughts I have when I'm like this, when I'm alone... they're so very, horribly wrong. They're so wrong my breath comes in short and I desire pulling my robes aside to ease a very primal sort of ache. 

My own quill hits the table and then rights itself, working off the charm I mutter as I give in. It's not the first time and, hell, it won't be the last. I ache for you and it's that very ache I take in hand, hips flexing into it as I let myself indulge. This is better, right? To imagine rather than to actually act? I'll just keep telling myself that for now.

The slick sound of my hand over my prick starts to fill my classroom and I'm hunched over my desk now. The quill is scribbling away and I'm only thankful it knows the things it should be looking for. A low moan leaves my lips as I let myself slip one step closer to hell.

You're on my desk and I'm right here in this chair. You've pulled your robes up and spread your legs, showing me everything. Your perfect breasts are on display, still so firm with your ending youth. Nineteen... that's the end of youth, isn't it? Maybe not. Maybe next year when you're twenty and you're no longer here, I'll find you somewhere and find out all the adventures of your body for real.

Pushing myself up from my chair, I hunch over, holding the desk with one hand, my cock with the other, stroking faster now. You ask me... no _beg_ me to whet my appetite within you. And I do, without hesitation. I push my hips forward and plunge into your tight, wet pussy. 

My hand's on the desk now, my cock trapped between my palm and the polished wood. A faint murmur of a spell and I'm pushing into a tight lubricated cave I've created there, my hand pressing tight on top of myself. Closing my eyes, I imagine you're dripping wet, you want me to fuck you harder. My hips piston and you cry out again and again. My thumb circles your clit and my mouth closes over your nipple, sucking and tongue flicking. You're losing it for me and I slam my hips forward a few dozen more times, gasping as I start to cum.

Opening my eyes, I watch as I shoot my load all over the paper my quill has been trying to grade. Thick spurts of cum splatter the pages and that's when I notice the name on the paper. It's _his_ paper. How appropriately, delightfully _wrong_. Stepping back, I clean myself with another charm and get my clothing situated again. Plucking the papers from the desk, I dump them into the trash at my right, a sneer on my lips. Yes... that will do. Torture the Potter kid some more while I'm at it.

Even as the papers flutter into the bin, I realize... I'm on the fastest track to hell there's ever been. And I just don't give a flying shit.

**The End**


End file.
